


He would never hurt me

by FeatheredSnake



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Dark!Aziraphale (Good Omens), Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, M/M, Mind Control, Missing Scene, Rape/Non-con Elements, fic of a fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-20
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-28 14:46:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30141150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeatheredSnake/pseuds/FeatheredSnake
Summary: Scene set afterChapter 34 of Descent Into Perditionby dreamsofspikeCrowley and Aziraphale are alone in the bookshop. With their love rekindled, they head for the bedroom.Even though Aziraphale has gone very very dark in recent times, there is nothing to worry about, he would never hurt Crowley.------------------------CW: Content can be triggering, please see tags.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21
Collections: Descent Into Perdition and DiP-verse Works





	He would never hurt me

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Descent Into Perdition](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23887096) by [dreamsofspike](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsofspike/pseuds/dreamsofspike). 



> First of all, big thanks to the most wonderful betas dreamsofspike and mevima, you are the best!
> 
> This scene happens right after Chapter 34 and it is specifically referenced later, in Chapter 37. If you are not caught up, it will be _very_ spoilery.
> 
> Still want to go ahead? Head to end notes for context.

“You love me,” Aziraphale had said, and it was the absolute truth. It always had been, it always would be.

“Everything I’ve done, I’ve done it for us.” That had also been the truth.

Aziraphale always knew what to do. He always took care of them because it was their own side. This was their own side anew, and Aziraphale was doing everything in his power and more to protect it. 

“You’d never do anything to hurt me. You did it all for us,” Crowley had replied with the utmost conviction - with each word, another weight being lifted off his shoulders.

And then Aziraphale had kissed him, needy and hungry and passionate, a mirror to Crowley's own feelings. Two souls in absolute synchrony. Two hearts beating as one. 

But something had prevented him from getting his hands on his angel. That should have been worrisome, but it wasn’t. Aziraphale was there and that was all that mattered.

Aziraphale had made up for Crowley’s restricted movement, had held him tight, pulled him close, kissed him fiercely, and it had been almost perfect. He couldn't move his hands, but that was all right. 

It wasn't like Aziraphale would ever hurt him.

Eventually his hands were free and Aziraphale had caught them. “You only… love me,” he'd said, as if there could be anyone else! But Aziraphale believed that there had been, and... he was right, Aziraphale was always right.

There had been someone else in Crowley’s heart. He had let himself be fooled despite Aziraphale's warnings and he had let Gabriel in. He had not been a good partner for a long time now; he had let his angel down. 

But all that was over. Aziraphale had forgiven him, had taken him back. He could have thrown Crowley away like the failure that he was but he took him back. Aziraphale was good; even though he could, he would never hurt him.

They were both so eager after that. Aziraphale took him by the wrist – he was, oh, so careful with the cuffs, making sure Crowley did not hurt himself with them – and hurried upstairs as fast as he could with Crowley trailing behind, barely keeping up. He was so keen to get to bed that he didn’t even stop when Crowley missed a step or two climbing up!

Aziraphale opened the bedroom doors with a miracle, leaving them swinging as he continued straight to the bed. He turned around to catch Crowley’s other wrist, spinning him and throwing him onto the bed all in one swift movement. It was the sexiest, hottest thing Crowley had experienced in a very long time. 

He landed on his back and even bounced a little with the force of the fall, and the mattress was so, so soft, _like the mattress at the Ritz that time when we celebrated the dawn of the New Millennium the last night of 1999_. Lately Aziraphale had been pushing him onto the bed quite frequently. 

_Why hadn’t I thought of that night before?_

He was so grateful now that Aziraphale had brought back all that he'd forgotten. How could he ever think of this as unsettling? What a load of bollocks, Aziraphale would never hurt him.

The cuffs had immediately attached themselves to the headboard. “So you don’t hurt yourself,” Aziraphale said, always so careful, so thoughtful, even when he was so overcome with want that his eyes were almost black.

Before Crowley could reply, Aziraphale was on him with a searing kiss that took his breath away and replaced it with Aziraphale’s scent. It cleared his mind of all other thoughts and filled his lungs with the unmistakable signature of angels – ozone intertwined with the energy of a lightning strike – plus the unique signature of _his angel_ , tea and old books.

Aziraphale took Crowley’s shirt in his hands and yanked, tearing it open, buttons flying, exposing all of Crowley’s torso at once, and then he kissed and licked and nibbled and sucked and squeezed and bit, to his heart’s desire. 

Crowley wanted to do the same. He wanted to taste his angel but his wrists were still attached to the headboard and Aziraphale... Aziraphale looked... angry? No, not angry, resentful. 

“You love _me_ , Crowley, only me, don’t you? Say it.” 

Aziraphale had been hurt by him, and now desperately wanted reassurance. And Crowley knew how to give it. 

“Yes, angel, I love you, I have always loved you, only you, since Eden, only you.” 

Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s waist and moved him into the best position, his arms immobilized over his head and Aziraphale’s body lodged between his legs. Aziraphale was so eager, he swiftly shoved a pillow under Crowley’s hips and effortlessly maneuvered him. His angel was so strong it was _maddening_ , but that was okay, because Aziraphale would never hurt him.

Bypassing the belt and the zipper, Aziraphale hooked his fingers on the waistband of Crowley's trousers and yanked down so hard that Crowley’s wrists jerked against the cuffs still firmly attached to the headboard, his arms stretched to their full extent. The image of a rack briefly crossed Crowley’s mind. 

_What a strange thing to think about._

He quickly replaced the thought with a memory more recent and certainly more pleasant. Lately they had been experimenting with new games, like that one where Crowley would hold onto two ropes or chains hanging from the ceiling while Aziraphale fucked him against the wall. Sometimes he could hold on the entire time, sometimes he would let go and hold onto the angel’s shoulders instead. He was a respectable snake, after all.

Aziraphale made sure to put the cuffs over the shirt's fabric so Crowley wasn't burnt when they were downstairs. Aziraphale was the most attentive partner anyone could ever ask for. He would always take care of him, he would always make sure Crowley was safe. Aziraphale was _safe_.

Evidently a miracle had been involved, as Crowley’s trousers – and boots probably, who either knew or cared? – disappeared as Aziraphale's hands reached his knees. It reminded him of the trick where a cloth would be pulled from a table without disturbing the plates laid out upon it. His angel wasn’t very good at it, but so loved his magic tricks, it was endearing. They had put his chain of colored handkerchiefs – and the headboard – to good use right before Warlock’s birthday party. 

_”Triumphal shag” my arse, but what a nice fuck it’d been._

"I love you so much, angel. I am so lucky to have you, I want to be good for you," Crowley said and meant every single word. He was so eager to please his angel.

“I need you right here, exactly where you are.” It was so stern, so demanding, Crowley had no choice but to comply. 

“Yes, angel, anything, whatever you want, always.” 

Crowley would always do anything for his angel. He would always be what his angel needed him to be, and right now his angel needed him to be pliant. Nobody knew obedience as well as Nanny Ashtoreth did. She'd turned compliance into an art form during those stressful times at the Dowlings.

“You are a vision, darling, look at you,” Aziraphale said. 

Crowley was almost completely naked. The open shirt was still on for his own protection, but he was completely exposed, and between his restrained, outstretched arms and his pinned thighs, he was completely vulnerable, thoroughly at his angel’s mercy. 

And he was completely at peace with that, because he knew, as clear as day, that his angel would never hurt him.

His angel, still fully clothed, was a vision in his own right, the prim and proper bookseller – collected, poised. He could fool anyone who didn’t know him, but Crowley knew; there was unadulterated desire behind the façade.

Crowley had been aroused since the race up the stairs, but this, his angel looking at him _like that_ , like a hawk hunting his prey, raking over every inch of his body, hunger in his eyes, had him unbearably hard. _Like the day they finally approved the design of the M25, my angel had been so impressed, so proud, so turned on, he couldn’t get his hands on me fast enough_. 

“Angel, I need you,” Crowley said, desperation in his voice. 

“ _I_ have been needing _you_ , darling, for a very long time.” Aziraphale gave him a pointed look. “But now I have you, and I want to enjoy every minute of it. You trust me, don’t you?” 

What else could Crowley do but surrender?

Aziraphale took Crowley’s right leg and brought it up to his shoulder, caressing the scales on the instep of his foot without losing eye contact for even a second. With that mischievous stare, he said, “My wily old serpent." A stroke... "so clever" ...a kiss... "so smooth” … a playful bite. 

_Is that blood?_

Every once in a while, things could get a little out of control, nothing to worry about. _Like when the Dowlings hired us, not that they would say “no” but it had still been exhilarating to set the plan in motion. We broke the coffee table that time… and Aziraphale’s hand_. 

It was okay, Aziraphale would never hurt him, not really, never on purpose. Besides, Aziraphale licked the blood off right away.

Next, Aziraphale got rid of his own clothes. 

“I love you, darling, I need you to love me, too.” 

Crowley could see that Aziraphale was also very hard and more than ready, his hand already lubricating his cock. 

"You trust me, don't you, Crowley?" Aziraphale asked with a piercing look. 

"Of course I do, angel. You don't need to ask me that. The answer will always be yes." 

"I just like to hear you say it, my love.”

“I love you, I trust you, I love you, I trust you with my life.”

In one swift movement, Aziraphale closed the distance between them, so fast it took Crowley by surprise. A quick thought flashed through his mind. 

_Is he not going to open me up first?_

That was a nonsensical thought, of course; this was Aziraphale, not a denizen of Hell! 

Aziraphale would never hurt him.

And Crowley was right. They were celestial beings, they could cheat every once in a while, although it was really not their style. A jarring exception came to mind right then.

 _1967_. 

After putting the thermos away, Crowley had returned to the bookshop; in the space of three strides, without a word and with a series of snaps, he had locked the door, closed the blinds, gotten rid of their clothes, and tackled Aziraphale to the floor. His sense of urgency had been so consuming that he had used a miracle to ready himself at the very last moment. 

_Aziraphale called me “reckless” then. Didn’t complain about my riding him less than three minutes after arriving though_. 

Crowley could well understand that pressing need to be close, desperate, greedy and yes, maybe a little reckless.

This was, however, the first time Aziraphale had been the one to prepare him. Crowley had always done it himself, but today he was cuffed with no access to his miracles, so it had to be Aziraphale. With a hurried snap, Aziraphale stretched and slicked Crowley’s entrance just in time.

 _A warning would have been nice though; that did feel odd_. 

It also made sense that the miracle wasn’t perfect: he wasn’t loose enough. 

_Not his fault, he’s never done this before. He would never hurt me_.

When Aziraphale pushed in, it burned and it kept burning. 

_Red-hot, like churning a star_. 

And just like that he saw black, as black as the universe in which he had once created those stars – and then, behind his eyelids, he saw them coming to life. _Like fireworks_. 

It was glorious. 

Crowley was vaguely aware that he was moaning quite loudly. He was so happy his eyes prickled with tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, his back arched sharply. Surprisingly, his wrists no longer jerked against the cuffs. Instead they were held down by Aziraphale’s loving hands, and that made Crowley feel so treasured, so cared for. Aziraphale did love to hold his wrists down above his head, it was one of his favorite things as of late. 

But that was okay, he could always trust the angel. Aziraphale would never hurt him.

Suddenly there was a hungry mouth on his in the messiest kiss, and it made him feel so complete, so grounded, so cherished, so fully connected to his angel. Aziraphale finally had him back. Crowley had stopped this foolishness of his and Aziraphale had gotten him back, Aziraphale had _wanted_ him back! 

His angel was so happy, of course he was a little enthusiastic. His harder-than-usual thrusts should not have come as a surprise, after they'd finally found each other again. 

_He is just so happy_.

Crowley was too, he was happy, he couldn’t remember the last time he felt _this_ happy. 

_The day we fooled Heaven and Hell and survived our executions probably, yeah, that must be it, that was the last time I felt such euphoria_.

His angel was all around him, so close, so tight, so right, he could hardly breathe. Everything around him, inside him was Aziraphale. Aziraphale, filling his body, his thoughts, his soul, up to and into the darkest corner of his essence, everything, in and out, was Aziraphale. And he welcomed it, like a balm to his broken soul. 

“Our own side, Crowley, that means you and me, you understand? Nobody else. Nobody else belongs in your heart but me, you only love me.” 

_Aziraphale must have felt so hurt_.

“Only you, I only love you, now and always angel, only you, our own side, always.” 

And he saw it in Aziraphale’s eyes as their vigorous lovemaking continued, his angel, _his angel_ wanted him, wanted _all of him_ , heart and soul, and Crowley happily gave it because it had always belonged to Aziraphale anyway. 

“Since the Garden, angel, yours, always only yours!” 

“Mine, Crowley, you are _mine_."

It felt like a promise, a renewal of a vow. Almost twelve years ago he had been given a wicker basket and they had made a choice: to betray their sides, betray Heaven and Hell and side with humanity, side with each other. 

_That was the day we created our own side, and then I went and I betrayed that, betrayed my angel. Not anymore. This is a new beginning. Aziraphale fixed us. We are sealing that promise. I will never hurt my angel again, and I know I can trust that he would never hurt me_.

Aziraphale kept up a punishing, almost frantic, rhythm. Such passion, it was too much, too much, Crowley’s heart was pounding, his chest heaving while tears kept falling uncontrollably down his face. Crowley felt Aziraphale’s hand in his hair, then on his temple, his cheek, his jaw, his neck. A commanding voice and incensed eyes. 

“You are mine, Crowley, only mine.” 

And that was the absolute truth, Crowley knew it in his heart, in the deepest corners of his soul. Pushing through the constriction in his throat, he gave the only possible answer. 

“Yes, yours, angel, only yours!”

He needed to remember this moment and treasure it, and he needed to think about the future. 

_This is just the beginning, today is only the first time, this is what we have to look forward to, our own side_. 

He did feel a little scared, of course he did; the future could be frightening. He didn't want to fuck this up again, he wanted to be there for his angel, he wanted to _be good_ for his angel. Aziraphale was the only thing that mattered. All he had to do was love and trust Aziraphale, and Aziraphale would love him back, of course he would, he would never hurt him.

Crowley felt when Aziraphale was approaching his climax. He knew that face, he remembered the first time he had been allowed this vision, _it had been back in 1941_.

A church, a bomb, a pile of rubble and a bag of books, and later, soft hands, soft lips, soft skin and the scent of an angel enveloping him – tea and old books. There had also been tears running down his face then, and there had also been a hand caressing his cheek, his jaw, and the column of his neck. 

And there had also been cries of, “Yes, yours, angel, only yours!”

With a final push that drove him even deeper into Crowley’s body – if that was even possible – and a loud cry of _“Mine!”_ Aziraphale came, filling Crowley with a white-hot burn that set his body aflame. His ears rang and his vision swam as he gasped for air. 

When he returned to his senses, Crowley was surprised to find that he had come too. He was still panting and his throat was sore – he must have also cried something during his release, he didn't remember. It took him two tries to get the words out and still they were no louder than a whisper. 

"I love you, angel."

Aziraphale had collapsed on top of him. "I know, darling, I know." 

And then Aziraphale looked at him with the most loving and tender eyes and there it was, _my angel_ , with that beatific smile of his, "I love you too, Crowley, my darling." And Aziraphale kissed him with the utmost care, pouring into it as much love as he had in him, as much love as an angel can have. 

As Aziraphale slowly withdrew, Crowley felt his abused nerves set aflame once again, and more tears escaped his eyes. The angel looked down with a frown. The moment Aziraphale completely left his body Crowley felt the effects of a miracle that soothed his soreness and cleaned them both up. As if nothing had ever happened.

A fleeting thought – _What did you do that for?_

“There darling, is that better?” 

Aziraphale could be so caring and attentive. 

He gathered Crowley in his arms. “You're trembling, my love.” 

Crowley was surprised to find that he was indeed shaking, and held Aziraphale tight, his anchor, his savior, his lifeline. So full of emotions, of love, so in awe of his angel, Crowley couldn’t speak. All he could do was smile and nod fervently.

Aziraphale brought their foreheads together and held his gaze for a moment. He could lose himself in those expressive eyes that clearly said, “I love you.”

Crowley felt a hand cup his cheek and his angel’s thumb slowly and tenderly wipe the wetness found there. And, on the other side of his face, he felt Aziraphale’s warm lips and tongue kissing away the tears that would not stop falling.

Crowley tried to talk, once, twice. On the third try, he managed, though his voice was hoarse. 

“These are tears of joy, angel. I’m crying because I'm so happy to be with you, because I love you so much, because we're together.” 

It was the absolute truth. Crowley was in complete bliss. He could stay in the arms of his angel forever, comforted, cherished, treasured, loved.

Eventually the spell faded; his tears stopped and so did his tremors. He would have liked to stay in bed wrapped in his angel, if not for all eternity, at least for the night, but Aziraphale had other plans. 

“I need to go find Gabriel and bring him back.”

Crowley felt a dagger pierce through his heart. Without further warning, Aziraphale extracted himself from their embrace and started getting dressed. 

_Why? Angel, please don’t leave me, I’ll be good, you’ll see, I love you so much, you don’t need him, you have me, all of me, you don’t need him_.

His anguish must have shown in his eyes, because Aziraphale gave him a beautiful soothing smile and spoke to him softly. “I'd rather stay here with you, my love, but needs must. He has to learn his lessons, and he needs to be here for that. You do trust me with Gabriel’s instruction, don’t you?” 

_My silly angel_. 

“Of course I trust you, you always know what to do. I just don’t like him around you... And, I wanted, I hoped we would stay in bed for a while, like before.” 

Crowley's pout and pleading eyes did nothing to sway the angel; Aziraphale left promising to come back very soon, but not before showering Crowley with kisses and reassurances of love.

Crowley finally got out of bed, collected his clothes from the floor and started to get dressed, a smile on his lips. 

_Oh angel_ , he thought with a chuckle at the sweet memory of no more than half an hour ago, _look at you, miracling my clothes all over the floor, my sweet sweet angel. Where is my other sock?_

He really couldn’t stop grinning at what he knew would become one of his most cherished memories.

He went to the mirror and stopped to look at the tapestry of little love bites he found. There were dark bruises on his wrists and his throat, where Aziraphale had gripped him with an iron hold. 

They had never marked each other before; it wouldn’t have been safe for Heaven and Hell to know what they'd gotten up to. But now, well, now it was different. They were on their own side, they belonged to each other and if his angel wanted to claim him as _his_ he damn well could! What was a mark or two? It wasn't as if Aziraphale was hurting him.

He finished dressing and went looking for his glasses and phone, when something in the middle of the bed caught his attention. There seemed to be a broad red stain on the sheet. _Looks like blood, smells like blood. My blood? Must have been from my foot_. 

He smiled at the very recent memory of Aziraphale’s lustful eyes boring into his while biting at his instep.

Leaving the bedroom, Crowley went to wait and think about his angel. What else was there in the world to think about?

Six thousand years ago, he had slithered up next to this angel who could have smote him but hadn't. This angel who wouldn’t hurt him but had taken him under his wing instead. Even today, Aziraphale was simply doing the same thing, being the same angel he had always been, taking him under his wing, protecting him instead of hurting him, because that was the kind of angel that he was. 

Crowley could always trust Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale would never hurt him.

**Author's Note:**

> Context if you haven't read DiP and still want to enjoy this piece:  
> Aziraphale and Crowley have been together for 80 years but Aziraphale has gone very very dark.  
> He captured Gabriel and has been torturing and raping him for months. Crowley has fallen out of love because of it and started developing feelings for Gabriel while trying to help him get out.  
> Aziraphale won't have it.  
> Aziraphale has put Crowley in a pair of blessed metal cuffs that cut his miracles off and can burn him if he touches them. The cuffs can also get attached to objects at Aziraphale's will.  
> Then Aziraphale entered Crowley's mind and forced him to love him again.  
> Mind control spell ("whammy" in DiPverse) done, they head for the bedroom to celebrate their renewed love.


End file.
